Rick Burns It was a hot late August day in 1986 on mid-coast Maine. My wife, Kathryn, had given me poor directions and we were driving about trying to find a recommended beach. We were hopelessly lost. I fired a few angry words and, in return, she shot a few warning shots across my bow, then we lapsed into a stony silence. Our sons Casey, nine, and Baggy, five, feeling the tension, sat uncharacteristically quiet in the back seat. Finally…
Rick BurnsOctober 16, 2008